


Hold Your Hand

by DestinyFreeReally



Series: 100 Swan Queen Ficlets [5]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Kissing, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 14:28:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5874091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestinyFreeReally/pseuds/DestinyFreeReally
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Let's get nsfw-</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Your Hand

     The first time you hold her hand it's accidental and instinctual; your magic needs it so you need it. You pull back when the swell of adrenaline subsides and you can't tell if it was your hand that was clammy or hers but you remember feeling warm all over and it takes you days to forget that. 

 

 

      Next, it's for magic again, or luck or just  _want_ but you let it linger, you take your time in her space and she in yours, and long moments pass between you that beg questions you're both afraid of asking. When she snaps back her hand like she's been burned, you know she has been before, and that makes you want to hold her forever, if you didn't already. Neither of you acknowledge anything, give anything away, and her hands ball fists on the steering wheel on the way home and you just want to coax softness back into them.

 

 

       It becomes reflex, strength and vulnerability for both of you. When Henry needs his mothers in a strange land; when you're feeling more lost than ever; when you want to do so much more than hold hands, you touch and you forgive and you  _dare_ to believe in something again.

 

 

     The first time you fall asleep together you wake up with your arm draped over her, betraying your nonchalance and faux apathy and the thin veil you keep your jealousy behind every time  _he_ holds her hand instead. You just went out for drinks and both crashed on her couch, but it feels special and you savor it before you wake her, before you pull your arm back, you just hope she knows how much you want to protect her that you'd do it in your sleep.

 

 

He's gone back to his wife, and you feel guilty but you feel happy, and you feel guilty for that happiness, too because you know her hope flickered for a moment before life drenched in it misery again. You hold both her hands, before you hold back her hair over the toilet, and you feel her shake beneath your fingers when she finally lets herself cry. You hold hands again, differently then; more tightly and yet more softly, something secretive and promissory you hope translates into a kind of love you hope she still believes in.

 

She leads you to her bed on purpose, holding your wrist softly before she brings it to her lips.  Her hands tangle in your hair, tease you and torch you, in ways you might not believe if magic wasn't real. The only times her hands leave you are to grasp sheets, to grasp the headboard, before they pull you even closer. You hold hands while she cums, her knuckles white and her fists shaking into yours, drawing you out into love very literally by the hand.


End file.
